With a timid voice and idolising eyes, the little boy greeted his father as he returned from work saying, “Daddy, how much do you make an hour?” Greatly surprised, and giving his boy a quizzical look, the father said, “Look, son, not even your mother knows that. Don’t bother me now, I’m too busy, tired and have things to do.” “But Daddy,” he insisted, “Just tell me please, how much do you earn an hour?”
At bedtime and having suffered a few interim short spells of pestering from the boy, the father finally gave in to his questioning and replied, “Twenty dollars an hour.” “Okay, Daddy. Could you loan me ten dollars,” the boy asked. Showing his frustration and stress, the father retorted, “So that was the reason you asked how much I earned. Go to sleep and don’t bother me anymore.”
It was already dark and, downstairs, the father meditated on what he had said to his son; he was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought, my son, wanted to buy something.
Finally, trying to ease his conscious, the father went to his son’s room. “Are you asleep, son?” asked the father. “No, Daddy, why,” replied the boy, who was partially asleep. “Here’s the money you asked for earlier,” the father said. “Thanks, Daddy,” rejoiced the son, while putting his hand under his pillow and removing ten dollars. “Now I have enough! Now I have twenty dollars,” the boy said to his father, who was gazing at his son and very confused about what had just happened.
“Daddy, could you sell me one hour of your time please,” his smiling son asked.
Time is too precious to keep it hidden. Appreciate loved ones, don’t take them for granted, share your joy, beauty and talents; we all have many.